


CAN 1

by cobbleles



Category: Saw (Movies)
Genre: #TransMascsForAdam, Adam Faulkner-Stanheight Lives, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, Lawrence Gordon POV, Lawrence is clumsy but means well, M/M, One Shot, Post-Bathroom Trap (Saw), Starting Over, Touch-Starved, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:02:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29210820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cobbleles/pseuds/cobbleles
Summary: Wanting is a choice. Needing is essential.
Relationships: Adam Faulkner-Stanheight/Lawrence Gordon
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	CAN 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello SAW community , 
> 
> also i completely forgot adam got shot in the first movie whilst writing this LOL so ignore the fact that there’s no mention of injury/scar on his part!

“Adam?” It looks like him but Lawrence could be mistaken. His nose bumps in the middle, his chin kneels in the middle. 

“Lawrence?” He’s got this queaky, higher pitched voice that Lawrence knows all too well despite not having it heard much or for a long time now. Adam’s standing there waiting for his order, Lawrence’s standing there waiting to take his, a few feet apart, leaning on his cane, still not quite adjusted to his prosthetic foot. He smiles at Adam.

“How are you?” 

Adam closes his lip in a pout, tilts his head from side to side, “Ok? some days are easier than others, I guess.” he chuckles though it sounds a little forced, he smiles back at Lawrence and it looks honest, “you?”

Lawrence mimics Adam’s response, he clicks his tongue like the end of a pen. “Not too bad, all things considered.” He orders a coffee, no sugar nor cream, and waits alongside Adam who just received his order; a ridiculously tall and pale iced coffee. He’s in a blue flannel, the collar of his white shirt stained of ink or paint, the tip of his fingers of smoke. Lawrence is in a striped blue dress shirt, brown straight legged pants, a tie slightly untied, loose around his neck. “Still working at the hospital?”

Lawrence nods, “I was on medical leave for a while--obviously--but with a lot of physiotherapy--and therapy--and the prosthetic” he tugs at his pant slightly, raising it above his ankle; metal arises, “I’ve been able to get back to work slowly. Just 3 days a week for now, and a lot of sitting down. I should be able to walk without any help soon enough, my prosthetist says.” He thanks the worker as he comes back to hand him his order, takes a sip immediately even though he knows it’ll burn--and it does, and he winces through the pain, and he takes a sip again. “You still take pictures of rich cheating assholes?”

Adam pushes the door to the coffee shop open and holds it for Lawrence. “I retired actually. Not from photography--I take pictures of the great outdoors now. It’s for a magazine. There’s a new theme every month; I get a rundown of what they’re looking for but it’s vague enough that I get quite a bit of creative freedom. It’s… nice? Plus I get to travel around the country a lot. Doesn’t quite pay the same though.”

The wind is crisp for an early October. The Halloween decor’s already being put up, monsters and masked killers. Adam fastens the button on his flannel up to his neck. Lawrence’s cane hits a beat and Adam matches its rhythm. He chews the end of his straw, his drink almost empty already within two street corners. “How’s the wife?” he asks. Lawrence smiles softly, both happy and sad-- _ ex.  _ Adam apologizes. 

“Don’t. It wasn’t--it had been bad for a loooong time. If I’m honest I wasn’t a very good husband. I wasn’t there for Alison, I always pushed her aside. She deserves more than that.”

“And your daughter? What was her name again?”

“Diana.” Lawrence sighs into his coffee. “It’s been tough for her--not just the divorce but everything really. We’re trying homeschool and doing a lot of things the three of us together still, trying to show her that it’ll be alright, that we can be a family even if we’re apart, her mother and I. I really want to be there for them both. I want to show them that I can do better. I can be better.”

Adam lights up a cigarette whilst they walk a few more streets, aimlessly, Lawrence thinks, until Adam stops in front of a building and says “well, we’re here, so.” and steps on the bud, taking the fire out. 

Lawrence stands there for a moment. It’s not the nicest of places, probably not the cleanest either. “You live here?” Adam’s lips are bright pink. His hands in his jeans pockets. 

“I live here.” he says. “I’m guessing you live near?”

“Hum. Not exactly?” Adam narrows his eyebrows. “I just work at the hospital nearby. I wanted a coffee and the hospital’s not so great so I stopped by the shop before taking the bus--can’t drive, you see.” Lawrence looks down at his feet. “But anyway--you were there and we got to talking and I didn’t want to stop. Walking’s nice too, also, helps me in the long run you know.” He’s a little nervous. He’s thought about this moment--standing in front of Adam again, completely and utterly helpless. In a different way. Like,  _ you’re the only one who understands me. _ Adam nibbles at his lower lip. 

“Do you want to come in then, since you’re already all the way here? I can drive you home later.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“I’m asking you--this is a simple yes or no answer, Lawrence.”

“Just Larry is fine.” Lawrence’s voice is small. 

“Larry.” Adam is shorter than Lawrence yet Lawrence feels like an ant in tall grass in his presence. He audibly gulps. 

“Yes.”

Adam walks in the front door, unlocked, holds it open for Lawrence, climbs each stair behind him, at his pace--”third floor.” He unlocks the apartment door and apologizes for the mess that is his place. He gets a chair from the kitchen to bring to Lawrence in the hall, to help. “You should get velcro shoes.” He says, “or like slip-ons? The fancy kind.”

Lawrence laughs. “That’s not the worst idea.” He has a pair at home actually, but he doesn’t tell Adam he’s thought of it already. 

He lets his cane in the doorway alongside his shoes and makes his way through the corridor into the kitchen, a hand holding his coffee cup, the other lifted up awaiting the moment he’ll need the wall to stand but he surprisingly makes it there unattended. 

“Do you want anything? Heat up your coffee?”

Lawrence takes a long sip; it’s lukewarm, almost empty, “I’m good.”

Adam nods. “Cool.”

It’s a little awkward, mostly silent, sitting in a room alone with each other again; a much nicer room than the last, Lawrence’s armpits still stained of cold sweat; nervousness, answering to small talk Adam tries to make. They dance around the table like there’s just one chair. 

“Can I see some of your work?” Lawrence asks, both curious and tired. 

Adam gets up and directs Lawrence into his bedroom, his red room in a closet. Magazines pile up on a nightstand and non-fiction books on the window frame, a dead plant, an ashtray. 

“This one’s the last one we did. The cover’s me, there’s a few more in it.” He turns a page, standing, they’re close; shoulders knock, a heartbeat answers, “this one--the text was written by a friend about the mountain. Hold it--” he gives Lawrence the magazine whilst he goes looking for another, which Lawrence keeps open to read the short essay. Adam is humming. It’s distracting. “Here” he opens a new magazine on top--Lawrence wasn’t finished but he doesn’t say anything--snow, electrical lines, pilons. “I was in North Dakota in February, maybe March. I think it’s some of my best work.” He flips through another page. 

“I like this one.” It’s a frozen lake. There’s a name underneath that isn’t Adam’s unlike the other photographs--Lawrence realizes too late, but Adam just smiles. 

“Me too.” He says. Lawrence bends forward to put back the magazine in the pile and asks  _ Can I? _ a hand upon it, waiting for Adam’s permission to dive in.  _ Go ahead.  _

“Is it a monthly subscription magazine? 

“It is yeah. You can pay for a month or three or a full-year at once.”

“Where could I adhere to it, if I wanted to do that?”

Adam raises his eyebrows and brings a finger to his cheek, scratching it. He invades Lawrence’s personal space once again, flips the magazine to its last page, highlights a website on the bottom with the same finger. 

“That’s where you can find all the info you need.” 

Lawrence shoves a hand in his pant’s pocket and fights through an army of change to find this piece of paper he remembers shoving there, now all crumbled, and a pen. He writes the website down and this time folds the paper in half, secured in between his bus card and his credit card in his wallet. He puts the magazine back down on the desk. 

“Thanks.”

Adam doesn’t say anything. He sits down on his mattress, on top of the poorly, quickly made-up bed. 

_ Can I? _ Lawrence gestures down, waiting for Adam’s permission to get in. On.  _ Yes. _ Adam’s legs are crossed, and his arms. Lawrence brings his amputated leg on the bed, bent at the knee, knee touching Adam’s knee and apologizing for it. 

“I’m sorry I never came to visit when you were in the hospital after--” Lawrence’s eyes grow in size, his saliva thick in his mouth, pasty white. It’s hard to speak of something like that. 

Lawrence is looking down. Adam unlocks his forearms and extends a hand to put on Lawrence’s, sitting on his calf. “Me too.” He says.   
“I wanted to. I just… couldn’t. Not yet.” It’s hard to look at someone like that.

“Yeah I get that, but we’re here now, so.” Adam chuckles and it comes out as a snort. “Somehow.” Lawrence laughs. It’s like thunder in his belly. He engulfs Adam’s hand by putting his empty hand upon it like a tower of hands. Adam stops and hiccups and stares at him and hiccups and there’s the beat of a heart like the ticking of a clock in his hand. Lawrence holds it down. Lawrence has his thumb stroking the rugged skin, paper cuts on Adam’s fingers, a pink band-aid with a character Lawrence doesn’t quite recognize. 

He is old. His veins pop, his skin is thin and wrinkly, sun spots along his thumb, light brown hair. The hair in his ear and nose are greying, his beard, that he shaves, is almost evenly grey. The hair on his head is slowly turning, before yellow; Adam’s head is all brown, the sparse hairs on his chin, a few days old mustache, sideburns. His hair is longer, bangs to his eyelashes, a short rat tail in the back to his shoulders.

Lawrence’s shoulders are sore. He rolls them back and they crack; a low, quiet grunt like the one that escapes his lips when Adam’s lips kiss his skin. Lawrence grows red, warm and embarrassed--he stares outside the window ahead. The sun is setting. Adam kisses the same spot on his hand. Something strikes inside Lawrence, the ceiling light flickers.

“Sorry about that. Told you the pay’s not as great.” Adam stands back straight along the bed frame. He undoes the button on his flannel. Lawrence is watching his fingers pull apart. Short trimmed nails, yellowed ends. He gets out of it fast, leaving his arms bare, fresh ink on his bicep. 

He clears his throat. He moves forward a little; Lawrence doesn’t move. Adam crawls into his space, a leg above a leg, a leg circling Lawrence’s waist. Adam’s hand moves up his leg like a spider with too many legs. His stomach is hollow and elastic. His neck is too big and his collar too small, his Adam’s apple strained and blocked. He tilts his head as Adam’s hand creeps up his body, stopping itself suddenly; a thumb rests on a cheek, fingers underneath an ear and hair and the very beginning or end of a palm sitting at the very beginning or ends of a pair of lips.

Lawrence kisses it. The hand. The air. He tilts his head furthermore and kisses it again, catching more skin; it tastes of patience and understanding and cigarettes and a little bit of blood, his teeth against it, white bathroom tiles, wheels on wet cement. 

Lawrence’s kisses are eager. Adam’s hand becomes a prey. Lawrence’s lips become a mouth. 

_ Can I? _ Lawrence’s hand is cupping Adam’s face the way Adam’s hand was cupping Lawrence’s face.  _ Please.  _

The kiss is like hunger, void and needy. Quick, lips drawing overboard like over-applied lipstick. Out of breath, saliva drenched chin and hair on his upper lip. Lawrence’s body shakes like it hasn’t been touched in years when Adam touches him, untying his tie, sliding it past his head, undoing the buttons on his dress shirt, Lawrence’s chest bare underneath. Lawrence’s body trembles under him like Adam’s hands are cursed. 

Adam takes off his own shirt. Lawrence kisses his chest. “Your surgery results look good,” he says, and he’s kissing the scars on his chest; double incisions meeting in the middle, nipples grafted and most of the feeling still present if Lawrence can assume from the hitch in Adam’s breath when his tongue skims over it. “looks very hum. Professional.” he adds, unsure of what to say. Adam narrows his eyebrows. He is taller than Lawrence like this, sitting in his lap.

“Thanks… I got it done professionally, so, I would hope it looks that way.”

“I mean--you know--” Lawrence is waving his hands around and sweeping the hair that falls on his forehead back, swirling his saliva in his mouth, Adam’s hands on his shoulders, searching for the right way to put it, “sometimes it doesn’t quite look that good?” Each word like a question. “Bad surgeons, infections.”

Adam hums. He’s playing with Lawrence’s hair. “Ever done one yourself?”

“No I don’t--well, I’ve never treated a transsexual before.”

“Riiiight.” Adam laughs. Not like he’s mocking him, more like he’s taken aback by Lawrence’s ignorance. “You know, most people use the word transgender these days instead, or just trans--like a trans person, trans people. Sure, some trans people are gonna use the word transsexual to describe themselves--especially older folks who grew up using that word--but it’s mostly… outdated? It kind of assumes that there’s an inherent, sexual, medical way of being trans when a lot of people don’t even transition medically in the first place.” 

“Huh. I see.” Lawrence is licking his lips dry, nodding profusely. He’s got his hand on his chin. Adam finds it amusing. “I didn’t mean to offend. I’m just… learning.”

“As long as you’re willing to.” 

Adam’s face is very close to Lawrence’s again. Their foreheads are touching, their noses are touching. There is a small gap in between their mouths, already open. Adam smells of ashes and 3 hours of sleep. Lawrence kisses him. Lawrence pushes him onto his back and he climbs over him. Adam grasps at Lawrence’s skin like his fingers were hooks, like his skin was fabric. He pushes him until both are on their sides. His hands are on his ass, on his hips, on his pant’s zipper, the button before it unbuttoned already; when? Lawrence can’t recall. His hands are slipping underneath the hem of Lawrence’s boxer briefs, the black and white kind, the basic yet expensive kind. His fingers drool. Maybe it’s Lawrence’s sweat. October is August again.

“Adam,” panting. Lawrence is wondering if Adam is thinking of him or someone else. He breathes _ Larry  _ on his neck. Lawrence is wondering if this is happening out of want or out of need.  _ I want you. _ Ha. Wanting is a choice. Needing is essential. 

Adam take Lawrence’s pants off. Or to his knee. Lawrence’s fingers are fat and bruised and have trouble unzipping Adam’s jeans. Adam does it for him, breaking their lips apart, pulling their skin apart. He gets out of his pants whilst Lawrence lays back, catching his breath. “I don’t think I can do this--not now,” there are stars on the ceiling, “it’s not--you--or”

“I wasn’t thinking that.” Adam is climbing his torso like a cat on a tree, leaving kisses aimlessly. His face is over his face. He kisses Lawrence’s two cheeks, each closed eyelid, the beginning and end of his lips. 

“Ok,” breathes in, “good.” breathes out. It’s hard to be with someone when you were stripped of being a person. “Can I still stay a while?”

Adam finds himself a comfortable spot on Lawrence’s side, an arm around his belly, his head on his shoulder. “It’s not like I brought you up to have sex with you anyway--not that I didn’t want to--I just,” his hair is sticking to his neck, their skin is melting, “wanted you around.”

Lawrence closes his arms around Adam. He kisses his forehead. 

“I missed you.”

Adam smiles. “Me too.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> THANKS FOR READING !!!!!!! I recently watched all the saw movies (most of them for the first time) and I can't stop talking and thinking about them so I Wrote Some Gay s. Follow me on twitter [ @aeo0ng ](https://twitter.com/aeo0ng/) if you want more Content. Very cool. Happy birthday if it's your birthday


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